


Radioactive

by HoltzMcKinnon



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:20:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoltzMcKinnon/pseuds/HoltzMcKinnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin stays behind to work on her newest solo book. Holtzmann stays for radioactivity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Erin was way behind on her newest book. The deadline was midnight tomorrow and she was barely past chapter three. It wouldn't even matter except she'd already spent the advance on a seriously reckless purchase that she'd bought with intentions that she knew she'd never fulfill. So here she was, at 01:30 am, typing on her laptop. If she went home she knew she wouldn't finish it, so she stayed in the firehouse.

Luckily for her, Holtzmann apparently had serious business that needed her immediate attention. Patty and Abby hard left immediately when she'd confessed exactly how nuclear it was.

Holtzmann was a master of summoning energy. Erin had noticed it in her much earlier in the year, but she seemed to inspire it in others too. The blonde apparently had an infinite stash of energy drinks and homemade concoctions. Erin wasn't sure what the woman put into them, but they were simultaneously delicious and disgusting at the same time. Inexplicable. There was a metaphor in there, somewhere.

Erin would never admit it, but she didn't think the energy that she had at this late hour was exactly anything to do with the drinks Holtzmann would periodically either toss her or gently drop on her desk (depending on the type of drink). She thought that perhaps it had more to do with the fact that it was Holtz.

It was 3am by the time Erin reached three-quarters of the agreed word count. She felt it was high time for a break, so she stood up and stretched. She looked over at Holtzmann, who had apparently not even noticed that Erin had moved.

She didn't look up as Erin sidled over to her slowly, though her pulse certainly skyrocketed. She was sure Erin could hear it.

"Holtz, I think it's about time we took a break. Wanna come up to the roof? I have a space-blanket." She offered, staring at the engineer.

Holtzmann looked up, feigning surprise, still twisting the screwdriver.

"Did you finish the book then?" Holtzmann asked, trying to control her breathing. She could smell hand soap and her "energy drinks". (which were entirely placebos. She didn't think Gilbert could even survive a real HoltzBooster.) It was intoxicating.

Erin looked confused, didn't answer for a second.

"Uh, no, I'm close though. Holtz?" She said, distracted. Holtzmann followed her eye-line, directly to the screwdriver.

Oh. Oh no.

Holtzmann had been absentmindedly and steadily twisting several holes into the woodwork of her desk since 8 pm. She'd amassed quite a collection, not that she'd noticed. She'd been watching Gilbert all night.

"Uh, yeah? Gilbert?" The blonde asked, deciding too quickly to bluff.

"When did you finish your machine?" The physicist asked.

"What machine?" Holtzmann blurted. Oh, how she sometimes wished for the ability to think ahead. A brain filter would definitely not go amiss.

Erin was staring at her. Holtzmann stared back. Stalemate.

"A break sounds good, Erin."


	2. Chapter 2

Erin could have pressed Holtzmann.

She could have asked what was really going on.

Why all Holtzmann had to show for 7 hours work was a probably unusable desk.

But Erin had never been good at staring contests, and staring at Holtzmann for too long hurt her eyes. It hurt her head. Made her feel jumbled and mushy inside her brain, so she relented.

"The uh, the space blanket. Right. I'll just. I'll get it. Then. Shall I?"

Holtzmann supposed that Erin didn't really want an answer, so she gently pushed the screwdriver into the palm of her hand and twisted it. It tickled. She bit her lip.

Erin returned with the small packet. The engineer jumped up.

"Roof? Roof." She bounded up the stairs, wishing there were more than 3 storeys of stairs between her and the roof. 300 would be nice. She could run faster than Gilbert.

When she reached the roof she wished she hadn't run. Gilbert probably wouldn't even have spoken on the way up, anyway. At least it gave her time to think of a plan.

Distraction. Holtzmann excelled in distraction. But how, though? She doubted a simple dance could fix this. She'd fucked up. Oh boy, had she ever fucked up.  
\---  
It was all Abby's fault, she decided. When she first met Abby, Jillian was a (13 year old) college student at the least prestigious school in the country, possibly the world.

The only university, though, where blowing things up "accidentally on purpose" every day was allowed. She didn't even have to write anything down. She'd told them things mapped out better in her head. They'd just been happy that someone who could actually be considered a scientist with a future had chosen their school.

Plus she paid in advance, which did _tend_  to get people's attention.

Abby wasn't even going to that university. She was hunting for Erin. Looking in every science college she could think of. This one had been an obvious no, but Abby went anyway. In the middle of an empty lecture hall, Abby realized that she had lost Erin.

So it was coincidence and dumb luck that brought them together. Neither of them really drank. How strange, then, that they met in a bar.

Jillian remembered it clearly. Abby had been all but sobbing into her drink. Holtzmann really felt for her, so she bought her three drinks and tried to not care.

It didn't work. Somehow she wound up sitting next to her at the bar. Abby's head was on her shoulder. She figured her shirt would be a viable contestant in a wet T-shirt competition. There didn't seem to be anything in between the drink buying and the shoulder crying. Suddenly it was just happening.

Jillian patted Abby on the back. She wondered if they were friends now. She wondered if this is what friendship was like. She dismissed the idea.

People's clothing would be a lot damper.

Suddenly Abby was telling her about Erin. Her best friend. Holtzmann listened. Abby had pitied Erin when she first moved to the school. (Jillian didn't think this was a healthy start to the friendship, but hey ho- who was she to judge? She'd never had a friend in her life.) She'd seen the looks and heard the giggles. She didn't get involved.

Then one day she did. She heard someone taunt the kid: "ghost girl, ghost girl, ghosty ghosty ghost girl" and she hovered until everyone had left. Except, apparently, Erin Gilbert, who was crying loudly into her own plaid shirt and chewing her knuckles.

Ghosts brought them together, so how fitting that it should also tear them so roughly apart. Abby would be lying if she'd said she hadn't noticed Erin changing. Her plaid shirts became dull colored tweed jackets. The band tees she wore were replaced by ridiculous blouses. Jeans became matching skirts and canvas sneakers tiny little heeled shoes. Erin said she was growing up.

Jillian thought that she would quite like young teenage Erin. She wouldn't say so. Not yet.

It took a long time for Erin to grow up. Sleeves grew longer. She stopped chewing her knuckles. Her eyes became sad and lifeless. Everything was changing. Abby wanted it to stay the same. She'd lost her temper, screamed at Erin, told her she'd never be anything but a stupid ghost girl. She'd even sang the stupid rhyme.

Erin left. Abby waited.

Abby waited two weeks, without leaving her room. She waited till graduation. She ventured over to Erin's moms house, two states away. Nothing. Erin's mom knew she'd gone, but Erin did not tell her where. Some college somewhere. And so she began a nationwide hunt for her friend. She did not find her.

Instead, she found Jillian. Jillian who told her that this school was pretty likely to let her work on her theories and give her a lab. A soon-to-be infamous scientist would still be a well known scientist. Jillian who skipped classes (and yet still somehow managed to graduate top of the class, without doing any work whatsoever) to build Abby's ideas. When she took them to her, Abby had liked it. Eventually she just didn't go back to class.

In return, Abby gave her supposedly horrifying stories about Erin ("she'd probably go mad if she knew I told you") that made Jillian desperately want to meet her.

Before she'd even met Jillian, the engineer knew more about her than anyone else. But when Abby told the story of how Erin had been so nervous the first time her boyfriend had missed her that she puked all down his shirt and a bit in his mouth, Jillian asked her to stop.

She wasn't sure why. She still wasn't. She just knew that Abby had caused this whole situation.


	3. Chapter 3

Jillian played with her penknife when she was upset or nervous. She put it in her mouth and sucked it, running her tongue over the countless gouges and pushing it upwards until it touched the roof of her mouth.

She was very nervous now. She could hear Erin calling her, and she didn't know what to do. She would very much like to disappear.

The way she saw it, she had three options.  
Option A) Suck it up, go and sit with Erin under the nice warm space blanket and possibly get to talk about her nonexistent machine whilst trying desperately not to touch her friend, because her self control was slipping already and she'd just spent 7 hours watching her.  
Option B) Run and Jump off the edge of the roof and hope to god she survived. She calculated the risk. Option B was out. She didn't believe in God anyway.  
Option C) try and run past Erin and get back downstairs. Then: run. Option C would probably fail, and become an embarrassing version of Option A.

Suck it up it was. She sidled over to Gilbert as casually as was possible. Her shoulders felt wrong.

"The stars are nice. Not often you see 'em with the light pollution" she offered. A blatant lie.

It worked though. Erin laughed. "Holtz, I think that IS the light pollution."

She'd unwrapped the packet and shook the foil blanket out. Jillian frowned for a second. She was sure there were actual blankets.

Erin spread it out on the floor, pulling two cushions from nowhere. It confused Holtz but Gilbert looked nonplussed. She tossed the engineer a pillow.

"Get under." Erin said. It came out lower than she'd expected and she laughed nervously.

This was more Holtzmann's ballgame. She could deal with Erin being the uncomfortable one.

"If you say so, cap'n" she grinned, winking. She threw herself at the ground gracefully but carelessly, and rolled towards the foil blanket. She lifted it up, and then rolled right over to the edge where Erin was standing.

"Aren't you getting in?" She husked, decidedly in her natural state of being. She grinned again.

Erin rolled her eyes, stepped over the woman and got in beside her. She lay back, thrusting the pillow beneath her head and sighing.

"Holtz." She said, in a kind of now or never moment.

Holtzmann mirrored her, but on second thought flipped to her side so she could look at her colleague.

"Bet you never thought you'd be in bed with THE Jillian Holtzmann, did you?" She said.

Erin snorted anxiously. Jillian had never heard anyone snort anxiously, but Erin managed it all the same.

Still, when she said "Holtzmann, please be serious." Jillian's stomach looped. Twice. She felt sick. She had no distractions in her arsenal, she was trapped.

She hummed nervously.

"Jillian." Erin said, sitting up rapidly. Holtzmann followed suit.

Nobody called her by her first name. Not even her parents. It was some great aunt's name. So why did it feel so nice to hear someone finally say the name?

Erin turned her head slowly, needing to lock eyes with Jillian, who might run in a second.

"Jill-I-an." Erin rolled it around her mouth. She liked the way the name moved around her mouth. It was like its own flavor. Her tongue vibrated against the roof of her mouth on the double "l".

She felt drunk.

Jillian continued to stare at her. Erin couldn't remember where she kept her tongue or what she even wanted to say if she found it.

Erin looked away. Wondered whether she could ever look back. She thought about what she'd spent the advance on, and felt embarrassed. Her skin turned a violent shade of purple.

Holtzmann bit her lip. Hard. The tension was almost a physical being, sitting between them. Jillian found herself desperately wanting to touch Erin's face. Under normal circumstances she would have just done it, but sitting on a roof with a woman who you've been steadily watching for 7 hours didn't count as normal. In fact, it was probably illegal.

"Wish I'd made us coffee" Erin mused aloud, imagining that it's a lot easier to hold a conversation when you had somewhere to put your hands.

She didn't particularly expect Jillian to do anything about it, so it was a bit of a shock when Jillian did a marvelous impression of the road runner back into the fire house. Erin lay back again, the cool concrete seeming to soothe her.

\-----

Jillian could breathe. And God, did breathing feel good. Lying next to Erin was like coming too close to a black hole, it was beautiful and intoxicating as it pulled you in, then it sucked the air from your very lungs and killed you. She sucked thoughtfully on a spoon, before pulling it out of her mouth and scooping up instant coffee. She dumped it into Erin's mug and went back to sucking the spoon.

Holtzmann leaned against the counter thoughtfully, ignoring the kettle that whistled angrily on the stove. She stared at Erin's desk.

Erin's desk did not stare back. The absurd thought invaded Holtzmann's mind and made her snort so hard that she snorted her spoon out. It wasn't funny, she didn't know why she'd laughed. She hurriedly shoved the spoon into her mouth (to clean it before she finished making Erin's coffee) and deliberately turned away from Erin's desk.

She took the screaming kettle off of the stove and poured the boiling water into the two cups, stirring them with her spoon. She dumped 3 heaped sugars into her own mug, and added milk. Holtzmann did not need to think about what Erin took in her coffee, she'd filed that information into her "Erin" brain-folder. ("One sugar. _Level_ , Holtz. And don't even think about putting that spoon in your- Holtzmann!")

She could see the desk in her mind. See the black box on the desk, hidden from view of her own desk by a stack of books. Which explained why she hadn't noticed it. She could see the black rose on top of it.

Holtzmann was not an idiot. She knew what roses and gifts meant.

Erin was in a relationship. Erin did not, could not, _would_ not love Holtzmann. No matter what Holtzmann did, no matter how many things she built for her. She made a mental note to dismantle the night-sky projector she'd been building. It was useless now.

She tipped the milk into her coffee, and then into Erin's. Sighing to herself, she began the ascent to the cool, night air, and tried to psych herself up.


	4. Chapter 4

Erin was playing with Holtzmann's penknife. 

Holtzmann stared. The mugs burned in her hands. She didn't know how to feel.

"I... I brought you coffee." Holtz said, weakly. She trusted Erin implicitly, but Erin hadn't trusted her enough to tell her about her new relationship. Not that that would have made Holtzmann jump for joy, but they were friends. 

Erin didn't move. Holtzmann nudged her with her foot, and Erin practically leaped into the air, dropping the penknife. On a normal day, this would have made Holtzmann grin. Now, she just shoved the coffee in Erin's general direction, the warm liquid spilling slightly onto her hand. 

"Jesus, Holtz! I didn't notice you." Erin laughed nervously. 

_No, you didn't._ thought Holtzmann, as she bent and snatched up her Swiss Army knife. 

"It must have fallen out of my pocket." She said, straightening. Erin stared. 

Holtzmann stared back, her eyes pricking. "The knife." She held it up as proof, then turned on her heel and headed for the railing. New York City stretched below her. Usually, it made her feel safe. Now it just made her feel alone. 

Erin stared at her back. 

"Holtzmann?" She asked, tentatively. She sounded scared, timid. Holtz knew that it was her fault, she was acting unfairly. Erin could date who she wanted. 

"He finally get the hint then?" She asked, turning and winking, lamely. 

Erin tilted her head. 

"What? Who?" She asked. She sounded genuinely confused. 

Holtzmann drew her best 'duh' face up and looked at Erin. 

"Kevin. Obviously. The rose? Although black's a bit morbid for a love-flower. So what's in the box?" 

Erin's jaw dropped. 

"Kevi- wait, you think black's morbid?" 

Holtzmann shrugged. 

"Personally I love black roses. I think they're an excellent gift. I just didn't think they were something someone might give you. I'd have thought you were a yellow rose kind of gal, myself." 

"I am! I love yellow roses!" Erin blurted. "The box and the flower... They're not from Kevin. I bought them." 

Holtzmann looked shocked. Erin did not seem the type to make the first move. Then again, Kevin would never notice on his own time. 

"When are you planning on giving them to him then? Because that rose won't last forever." Holtzmann tried to grin. 

Erin grimaced and tried again. This was not going how she'd planned it. Her voice was louder than she'd meant it. "Holtzmann, they're not _for_ Kevin, they're for- oh, forget it. I need to go home." 

She grabbed her pillow, and stormed towards the door. Holtzmann called after her. 

"Erin! Your book!"

"I can do it at home, Holtzmann!"

\-----

When noon came, Holtzmann was still not in her lab. Abby sat on Erin's desk, sighing loudly. 

"What, Abby?" She said, snapping slightly. 

"Where's Holtzmann? What did you do?" Abby asked, knowing that with Erin, there was no point sugar coating it. 

"I don't know. I'm not her frickin' keeper, am I?" 

"Erin, I am _not_ an idiot." Abby said, glaring. "I know you aren't attracted to Kevin. Why you keep up the pretense is beyond me. You can't stand to spend more than a minute around anyone with an IQ below 110, and that poor boy has the brains of a goldfish with a concussion."

"Get to the point, Yates." 

Abby winced at the use of her surname. "I can see through you. I saw the rose, and the box. What did you do?" 

Erin slammed her hands flat on the table. "I didn't _do_ anything, Abby! I left! She thought they were for _him_!" 

And with that, Erin stormed up the stairs, headed for the roof. 

\-----

Holtzmann was sitting next to Erin's cold coffee, wrapped in the space blanket. She'd been there since Erin left, God knows how long ago. She didn't understand how it had gotten to this. 

The door to the roof slammed. Holtzmann turned. Erin. The other woman had her head buried in her hands, and hadn't seen her yet. Holtzmann silently extracted herself from the blanket, sneaking behind an abandoned attempt to build a ghost-o-scope. If Erin moved, Holtzmann could sneak downstairs, and find out who that damned box was for. 

Erin stared at the blanket. Wondering how long ago Holtzmann had left. Wondering if the trail of destruction the wild woman left was reserved for hearts, ghosts and nice tidy rooftops. She wandered over to it, picking the noisy material up. 

The door slammed behind her. She turned, but nobody was there. Erin was sure the door had shut when she walked onto the roof. She furrowed her brows. 

\---- 

Getting off the roof had been the easy part. Getting into Erin's locked desk drawer was even easier. What was not easy was trying to explain to Abby why she'd been in Erin's desk, and where she'd been all morning. 

Abby had not accepted her answer. ("I left my, uh, my favourite screwdriver in here. The one with the tiny hammer carved into the wood") but rolled her eyes and left anyways, muttering about drama. Patty was apparently not giving up so easily. 

"What is going on with you, baby? You've been all jumpy for weeks, and you haven't finished a single invention for over a month." 

Holtzmann shrugged. Patty dragged her into a bear hug in response. 

"Is this about Erin?" She didn't let go when Holtz tensed. "It is, huh? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, nothing. Alright, something, something. I think she's dating someone. And..." She trailed off, digging in her pockets for the pocket knife that was not there.

"...And it's not you" Patty finished for her, pushing her arms out to look at Holtzmann. 

Holtzmann nodded, her brow furrowing as she dug harder, searching desperately now. Out of nowhere, she descended into sobbing. 

Patty was at a loss. She knew a lot about Holtzmann, and one of the main things she knew was that the woman did not cry. When she was upset, she sucked on- 

"Your Swiss, where is it, honey?" She asked. Holtzmann pointed at the ceiling. 

"Your lab?" Patty asked. Holtzmann shook her head. "Oh. The roof. You want me to get it?" 

Holtzmann shrugged, body shaking from the sobbing. Damnit, she wanted Erin to be _happy_. 

She hadn't realised that that was conditional. 

She wanted Erin to be happy, as long as happy was with Holtzmann.


	5. Chapter 5

There were 5 things in life that Holtzmann was sure of. 

1\. No matter how lost she felt, she had a family now. And that family would always be there for her.  
2\. Feeling lost was becoming her permanent state of mind.  
3\. Giving up always seemed like the easy way out, but it wasn't. No matter how hard it got, it was always better to try.   
4\. The world was not an easy thing to understand.   
5\. Maybe she didn't _have_ to understand.

 

Now there were 3 things that she was unsure of. 

1\. How to continue her life when it seemed there was no forward motion left.  
2\. How to create things when all her energy was focused on something- _someone_ \- else.   
3\. Erin. 

She'd been steadily avoiding Erin for days. She'd taken to spending the day watching the food network and sucking her penknife, and the nights working on her inventions. Not that they were getting very far. 

Holtzmann couldn't stop thinking about the rooftop conversation. How it felt when somebody had finally said her name. It felt like- it felt like she was finally home. Her whole life she'd been running, direction undetermined.

When she was six, her parents hired her a tutor from the local college. A girl with pink hair, shaved on one side. Jillian Holtzmann had been _obsessed_. The pink haired girl had made a passing comment about her name. She didn't like it. 

Ever the problem solver, Holtzmann had said "Call me Holtzmann" and the girl had grinned. She liked that. 

If the girl hated her name, then so did she. It had to go. From that point on she forced everyone to call her Holtzmann, and it just kind of stuck. The pink haired girl left after two months. 

Holtzmann stayed. Over the years, she'd created a perfect personality for Holtzmann, brilliant in every way. 

Except she wasn't sure that Jillian was the same person. And it didn't _matter_ , except that when Erin had said it, she thought that maybe Erin didn't just see Holtzmann. Maybe she saw Jillian too. 

\----- 

The black rose had died. It had been replaced with another, and another, and another. Each time Erin was sure that this would be the rose that did it. 

It continued for exactly two weeks. 

Abby and Patty had taken to having whispered shouting matches under the stairs. Erin knew they were about her. The tension built, and it built. 

"For Christ's _sake_ Erin! We aren't stupid!" 

Erin jumped at Abby's shout. Abby never got involved with her life. She was content to be a sideline best friend, only really stepping in when asked. 

Abby stared at her. Erin knitted her brows together. Then the tears came. 

Erin cried for a solid five minutes. Abby just watched her and waited. When Erin's tears subsided into sniffles, Abby took a deep breath. 

"Erin. Remember your first kiss, and how you threw up all over him?" Erin nodded. "I thought you were just nervous, but I was wrong. And yet you kept doing it, kept kissing him until it didn't make your stomach turn. Then you slept with him, and you told me it was the worst night of your life." 

Erin shoved a knuckle in her mouth and started chewing on it, startling Abby. A nervous reaction from the old days. Abby surmised that she shouldn't have been surprised. This whole thing was probably putting her back in that headspace. 

"And you kept having them. Worst nights. It was like everyone you ever dated was sickening to you. I'm sorry, Erin, that it took me this long to realise. You always wanted to be this perfect person, the person who'd been planned out for you your entire life. Be who everyone else wanted you to be.   
Like you were afraid of being yourself. You didn't wear those clothes because they made you happy. You wore them to help you perpetuate a lie." 

Erin's mouth was frozen on her knuckle. She looked as if she was biting it hard enough to shatter the bone. Abby approached and gently took Erin's hand from her mouth. 

"And you didn't throw up because you were nervous."


End file.
